


Va te faire enculer

by sunken_ships (sunken__ships)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is smol and full of rage, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, First Meetings, Gen, HAS THIS BEEN DONE, I mean, Poor LaF, Thomas Jefferson doesn't actually appear in the story, but boy is he a major plot point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6457675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunken__ships/pseuds/sunken_ships
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(meaning: go fuck yourself)</p><p>Little does Lafayette know that he looks exactly like a guy called Thomas Jefferson. Little does Alexander know that Lafayette is, in fact, NOT Thomas Jefferson. And little does John know that Alexander has made a split-second decision to attack Thomas Jefferson on sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Va te faire enculer

**Author's Note:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE NO ONE HAS DONE SOMETHING LIKE THIS BEFORE. i mean like, unless they have and i'm just late to the party. so obvs this is set before alex and laf know each other. alex and john are a cutesy couple, and laf and herc are friends. some shit goes down.  
> also this is the second time i've uploaded a story today don't look at me i'm pure trash i'm sorry i just got two ideas and then i wrote them down so here they are.  
> a huuuuuuuge shoutout to onlyplusharold who, without even prompting, went and gave me corrections re: the french in this. you are literally the best and we need more people to be like you on this earth. translations are at the bottom

     It was a sunny day in Manhattan, and the Columbia College campus was alive with students enjoying the warmth and light. Lafayette was glad he’d decided to tie his hair up that day – the thought of his thick curls on the back of his neck in this heat was an unpleasant one. He was just heading back to his dorm after a morning lecture, walking across the lawn; sunglasses on, messenger bag slung over his chest. So far, it was a good day. The prospect of the huge piles of assignments and homework awaiting him put somewhat of a dampener on it all, but that was nicely balanced out by the anticipation of going out tonight with his friend Hercules Mulligan.

     So, all in all, a pretty good day.

     Until Lafayette heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching him. He began to turn, concerned, and he only managed to get a glimpse of a dark ponytail and olive skin before he felt a great force slamming into him, sending him flying.

     Lafayette landed on the grass, crushed under the weight of a body, the air rushing out of him. He looked up in alarm at his assailant, unable to do any more than struggle to catch his breath.

     The attacker was probably his age but shorter than him, with big brown eyes that were narrowed in pure rage.

     “What the fuck did I say?” he growled, straddling Lafayette’s stomach, pressing down on his shoulders. “I fucking _told_ you, Jefferson, if you fucking came _near_ me ever again, I would fucking kick the _shit_ out of you, you _fucking prick_.”

     Lafayette gawked at the guy in bewilderment. Who the fuck was Jefferson? “ _Putain de merde_ –”

     “You have the nerve to speak fucking French to my face? _Putain tu déconnes_.”

     Lafayette was aghast. “ _Excusez-moi? Fiche moi la paix_!” he exclaimed, and pushed back. The guy was a little thrown, but returned with vigour, and it turned into some kind of wrestling match. Lafayette didn’t know if he was trying to get away or trying to hurt the guy for being so rude – not to mention he’d _attacked_ him for no reason.

     “ _Fous le camps et crève_ , Jefferson!” the guy spat. He wasn’t just smaller than Lafayette; he was weaker, too. But what he lacked in power and size, he made up for in passion. Pure, unadulterated fury.

     Lafayette managed to break free for a moment, before the guy tackled him again. “ _Je ne suis pas_ Jefferson,” he gasped. “ _Dégage_!”

     “Oh, fuck off, what the fuck does ‘I’m not Jefferson’ mean?” The guy’s hand slipped from Lafayette’s from where they were grappling, sending the heel of Lafayette’s hand into his jaw.

     “Ow, _fuck_!” The guy growled. “You fucking–”

     The fighting continued. It was hardly impressive by any means – more just struggling and shoving at each other than anything else – and Lafayette was more baffled than angry.

     Somehow, the aggressive guy managed to get on top again, and was just about to go for Lafayette’s hair – the fucking _nerve_ on this idiot – when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, hauling him off Lafayette.

     Lafayette scrambled away and to his feet, panting, staring in shock at the guy who attacked him as he flailed in the grip of another guy, who, somehow, was even smaller than the first.

     “Alex, stop,” said the second guy, batting at the first guy’s arms. “Stop it.”

     “Let me go, John!” the first guy, Alex, demanded, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence.

     John shot daggers at Lafayette. “Jefferson, just leave, okay?”

     Lafayette threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “ _I am not Jefferson_ ,” he cried. “Who the _fuck_ is Jefferson?” He dusted himself off and went to grabbed his sunglasses and messenger bag from where they’d been scattered, checking his sunglasses for scratches. “ _C’est des conneries_ ,” he muttered, making sure it was loud enough for Alex and John to hear. Thankfully, his sunglasses were unharmed. But the grass stains in his shirt were another matter.

     “What do you _mean_ , you aren’t Jefferson?” Alex snapped, getting to his feet and brushing himself off.

     “I mean that I am not Jefferson,” Lafayette said, enunciating his words clearly and carefully. “My name is Lafayette. I do not know who Jefferson is. So you can _va te faire enculer_. Leave me alone.”

     John and Alex glanced at each other, then back at Lafayette. “I…” John frowned. “Alex, I think he’s right. I mean, he actually _sounds_ French.”

     “Of course I’m right!” Lafayette said. "And I  _am_ French!"

     Alex’s brow crumpled. “But… But you look just like him.”

     “Well, lucky me!”

     “You really do look just like him,” John said, as if that made everything all right.

     “ _J’en ai plus rien à foutre_! That doesn’t mean you just go and _attack_ someone when they’re just minding their own fucking business!” Lafayette pulled at their shirt, inspecting the grass stains, and whined. “You ruined my shirt, you _connard_.”

     John and Alex just stared at Lafayette as if he’d sprouted dragon wings.

     Lafayette shot them a glare and brushed off his shirt again, knowing it would do jack shit, and stomped away. He yanked his hair tie out as he went, knowing that his flawless ponytail would be ruined. Great, he probably had grass in his hair as well. Did Alex know how difficult it was to get grass out of hair like Lafayette’s?

     “Wait!” Alex called, but Lafayette ignored him.

     Alex caught up to him – John as well, by the sounds of it – and tapped him on the shoulder. “Dude, wait.”

     Lafayette spun around. “ _What_.”

     “Look.” Alex held up his phone, presenting to Lafayette an Instagram profile. Lafayette squinted at the screen.

 _Merde_. The username said ‘thomasjefferson’, but the photo…

     “Is that me?” Lafayette asked, taking the phone to get a better look. He began flicking through the photos.

     “Now do you see why I got you two mixed up?” Alex said.

     Lafayette zoomed in on one of the photos. _Fils de pute_. The resemblance was uncanny.

     Lafayette sighed and handed the phone back. “Okay. I understand. But you still attacked me.”

     Alex opened his mouth to speak, but then John elbowed him in the ribs. He huffed, and said, as if the words were being dragged out of him, “I’m sorry I attacked you.”

     Lafayette crossed his arms. “That wasn’t the most genuine apology I’ve ever heard.”

     “We’ll buy you a drink,” John offered. “Won’t we, baby girl?”

     Alex looked to John helplessly. “I’m broke,” he whispered.

     “If you can afford to buy fancy fountain pens to write goddamn letters with, you can afford to buy a drink for this guy you just assaulted,” John replied through gritted teeth. “And you wouldn’t be able to afford it if he sues you. Or if you get expelled.”

     Alex heaved a sigh, and nodded. “Okay. We’ll buy you a drink.”

     “I’m flattered,” Lafayette said dryly.

     “He means well,” John said, in a way that made Lafayette think that he’s had to deal with these situations before. “He really is sorry. Please let us buy you a drink? Tonight. Seven o’clock. You can choose the pub.”

     “Can I bring a friend?” Lafayette asked sceptically.

     “Of course,” John said, jumping over whatever Alex was about to say in protest. “The more the merrier.”

     Lafayette considered this, then nodded. “Okay. Seven o’clock.”

     “We can’t wait,” John said with a tight smile, and grabbed Alex’s arm, dragging him away to give him what Lafayette guessed would be the biggest talking-to of his life.

     Lafayette turned and continued on his journey home, wrangling with his hair, shoving it back up into a ponytail as he did so. Once he was done, he pulled out his phone to text Hercules.

_you free tonight for drinks?_

     He received a response a few minutes later. _are u buying?_

 _no_ , Lafayette replied. _two guys called alex and john._

_…and they are…?_

_you’ll hear all about it tonight_ , Lafayette said. _boy, is it a story worth telling_.

**Author's Note:**

> Putain de merde: fucking shit (basically)  
> Putain tu déconnes: You're fucking kidding  
> Excusez-moi? Fiche moi la paix!: Excuse me? Get the fuck away from me!  
> Fous le camps et crève: Fuck off and die  
> Je ne suis pas Jefferson: I am not Jefferson.  
> Dégage!: Piss off!  
> C’est des conneries: This is bullshit  
> [so you can] va te faire enculer: go fuck yourself  
> J’en ai plus rien à foutre: I couldn’t give a flying fuck  
> [you] connard: asshole  
> Merde: shit  
> Fils de pute: son of a bitch


End file.
